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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26399473">i would have followed you (all the way to the graveyard)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/livmoores/pseuds/livmoores'>livmoores</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>mischief managed [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Typical Violence, Dementor's called they'd like to cash in on your trauma, F/M, Minor Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Minor Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Minor Ingrid/Glenn, Perceived One Sided Pining, Sylvain and happy memories??? jk... unless..., canon typical trauma, no beta we die like Glenn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:54:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26399473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/livmoores/pseuds/livmoores</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"In theory." Sylvain can handle theory. He's a Ravenclaw; he eats theory for breakfast.</p><p>"In practice." Sylvain could use a lot more practice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd &amp; Felix Hugo Fraldarius &amp; Ingrid Brandl Galatea &amp; Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>mischief managed [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918690</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i would have followed you (all the way to the graveyard)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnilee/gifts">sunnilee</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>me: haha HP AU!!!!! jk but.... what if???? </p><p>it's like some vague combination of hp book setting and marauder's era don't worry about it</p><p>this would not be where it is without sunni i am just here puppet to deliver angst THANK U BOO</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sylvain could feel his focus slipping. </p><p>He crawled, slowly and painfully, over to Dimitri. There was so much blood that Sylvain wasn’t sure if he was alive or dead. His vision was blurred and narrowing but he could make out the strained rise and fall of Dimitri’s chest. He was unconscious, not dead, which meant he could move on. He turned his head, letting out a gasp of pain as he did so, and saw Felix, Annette and Ashe entangled in devil’s snare. The room was dark and feeding the creature but they were safe. </p><p>Behind the trio, he could see Byleth laughing hysterically and poking at her skin. The brains (was that what they were?) that attacked her had done some damage. He prayed to Sothis that it wasn’t permanent. Dedue was next to her, slumped over on the ground, his eyes awake as he tried to move. Mercedes was next to him, trying to attend to his bite as well as she could in the darkness. That was everyone.</p><p>Well, almost everyone.</p><p>“Goddammit!”</p><p>The cry was strangled and full of agony. The last time Sylvain had screamed like that was when he realized Miklan was trying to kill him by throwing him down a well. Ingrid wasn’t in the room. The two had entered the room together upon hearing Dimitri’s screams and Cornelia’s maniacal laughter. There had been a flash of blue light, a handful of curses shouted, and Sylvain was on the floor. He had assumed Ingrid was next to him when she had fallen. </p><p>He reached out his hand and collapsed on the floor. He had managed to dodge most of the curses but knew he couldn’t walk away unscathed. Tomas (he believed, it didn’t matter, they were all wearing masks) had hit him with a stun jinx that left him woozy and weak in the knees. He had been expecting an ambush but he hadn’t been expecting this.</p><p>A tuft of blonde hair appeared in the corner of Sylvain’s eyes. Grinding his teeth, he bit back the pain and army crawled closer to the blonde. How had he missed her in the room? Sylvain always knew where Ingrid was when she was in his vicinity. The redhead chalked it up to being overwhelmed by the situation. </p><p>“Ing? Can you hear me?” Sylvain asked, his voice low. He was still trying to mask his pain even if it didn’t matter. Everyone in the room was harbouring some type of injury. With another loud groan, he propped himself up against the wall. “Accio wand.”</p><p>His wand whizzed into his hand. At the moment, he hated how reliant he was on it. Mercedes could work on injuries and if the trio calmed down, they could break out of the devils snare. But Sylvain? All he could do was hold his wand, shout some spells and pray for the best. He curled his hand around the wand (dragon heartstring, nothing special compared to Dimitri’s stupid Pheonix core) and prepared to fire the first spell that came to his mind and whoever entered the door. </p><p>Nobody came.</p><p>The seconds turned into minutes. Sylvain knew that his time was blurring together and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The skin on the back of his neck was standing up as he stared at the door. Why wasn’t anyone coming? The Death Eaters had been laughing their way through the room some fifteen minutes ago. </p><p>The room went cold.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>Sylvain closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. The door creaked open and the room went colder. He didn’t have to see the creatures to know what they were. He shivered as he gripped his wand tighter. </p><p>
  <em>Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. </em>
</p><p>When he had been practicing the Patronus charm, the happy thoughts had come easily. He pictured him, Felix, Ingrid and Dimitri when they were kids, playing magic and muggles. There was the memory of his mother, who had been so happy to discover that her son was a Ravenclaw, despite breaking the family tradition of Slytherin’s. That memory was quickly replaced by his father’s look of disappointment.</p><p>Sylvain’s stomach churched. Andre Gautier didn’t have to verbally express his disappointment. His facial expressions, the slight downtown of the corner of his mouth and the way his brows furrowed spoke legions. His father’s face morphed into his brother’s. He could see Miklan glaring at him from across the Great Hall as he walked to the Ravenclaw table. Sylvain didn’t have to look at him to know he was mouthing that he was a disgrace; Miklan told him enough. </p><p><em>You cannot conjure a Patronus without happy memories. Think of your happiest memories. Dementors feed on misery and will do everything in their power to drain you of whatever happiness you cling too</em>. </p><p>Professor Nervand’s words were fading in his memory. Dementors were supposed to be something he had studied in class, not permeating his emotions and memories. He sicked in a breath and tried to focus on happier memories while ignoring the despair in the room. It felt like someone was stabbing an ice pick in his heart.</p><p>He sucked in a breath and replayed his happiest memory in his head over and over. It was the moment the sorting hat shouted Ravenclaw. Sylvain knew he was free of the burden that his family bestowed upon him by being a Slytherin. He recalled the loud cheers that erupted, the fact that everyone in the Ravenclaw house wanted to shake his hand, and the look of pride on the Head Boy’s face as he came to the table. He was now a proud owner of a Ravenclaw badge and blue and bronze tailored uniforms.</p><p>“<em>Expecto Patronum!</em>”</p><p>A streak of silver exploded from his wand and fizzled out immediately. There was little conviction behind his words and he knew it was a feeble attempt at the spell. His memory was happy but was it his happiest? No. If it was, he would have been able to produce the Patronus. </p><p>
  <em>Come, Sylvain. You can do this. Happiest thought.</em>
</p><p>The memory morphed into his second year of school. It was the welcome feast and the first years were walking into the hall, their eyes wide with excitement (and some terror, namely Felix who was soaking wet, having fallen into the lake) as they took in the world around them. He could pick out Felix, Dimitri and Ingrid from a mile away. The smile on his face grew as he waved at his friends.</p><p>The waves of his friends were replaced by their sortings. Dimitri was first. The sorting hat sat on his head for a minute before shouting Hufflepuff. Sylvain’s heart tugged; he had been disappointed but not surprised. Hufflepuff fit his humble and calm demeanour. The moment of disappointment was fleeting as he saw the look of happiness on his friend's face. He was falling in his mother’s footsteps and honouring her memory as a Hufflepuff. </p><p>Felix followed shortly. The sorting hat didn’t have to touch his head before it screamed Slytherin. It was the polar opposite to his brother Glenn, a proud Gryffindor. The tears were starting to well up in the corner of his eyes as the idea of being separated from his friends and Sylvain fought the urge to laugh. It was adorable how little Felix was distraught at the idea of separation. Felix didn’t know it at that moment but Slytherin was the perfect house for his emotional friend.</p><p>Ingrid was last. Sylvain’s heart skipped a beat as he looked at his friend, who was wearing a toothy grin. Her eyes were wide and she was excited. Ingrid was lucky; her siblings had been sorted to all four hours and her family, despite a pureblood lineage, would welcome whatever house she was sorted into. Out of the three, Ingrid was the most likely to wind up in Ravenclaw. His excitement started to bubble over as he bounced one of his knees. </p><p>“<em>Expecto …. Patrnomum</em>!”</p><p>It was stronger but not strong enough.</p><p>The tips of his fingers started to feel cold. Sylvain couldn’t feel his toes and his teeth were chattering. He could hear the sorting hat’s booming voice calling out Ingrid’s house (<em>Better be… Gryffindor!</em>) followed by the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. </p><p>Sylvain’s world had shattered as he watched his friend saunter over to the Gryffindor table. Ingrid was supposed to be with him. She was clever, witty and creative. The blue would complement her pale skin and green eyes perfectly. Yet she was sorted into Gryffindor, with her stupid daring nature and the nerve to call him on his shenanigans. Ingrid was unapologetically afraid and stood up for what she believed in.</p><p>The tears fell from the corner of his eyes. The sadness was present but he was starting to feel numb. The dementor was slithering closer by the second. He sucked in a deep breath and used the last of his strength to push himself in front of Ingrid. He was the first line of defense to the dementor. If they were going to swarm someone, he wanted it to be him. </p><p>Dimitri’s laugh, Felix’s scowl and Ingrid’s smile flashed through his mind. His thoughts lingered on Ingrid’s smile and the glee in her eyes. Despite the tears falling freely, the corner of his mouth turned up as the wand fell out of his hands. Sylvain closed his eyes to let the despair smother him.</p><p>There was a loud bang, a flash of silver, a shout, and the world went black.</p><hr/><p>Sylvain awoke with a jolt. </p><p>His head was throbbing and it took him a minute to figure out where he was. The room wasn’t bright enough to be St. Mungo’s. That was a relief; Sylvain was apprehensive about being associated with something to close to the Ministry. There was a knot in his stomach over the thought of how easy it had been for the Death Eaters to find them in the Abyss. The infiltration to the Ministry was deeper than he realized. </p><p>“Ow,” he complained as he tried to move his arm. “The hell happened?” He was trying to recount the events of the night (day? hours?) previously as he realized he was in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. “I feel like I got hit by a train.”</p><p>“That’s because you might as well have.” </p><p>Sylvain turned to his left. Ingrid was sitting next to his bed, her legs crossed and reading a book. She didn’t look up from her book as she spoke. His heart swelled at the image; that was his Ingrid, reading to calm her nerves. He didn’t have to look hard to know the book was one of her favourites and the one she reread all the time. </p><p>“Yeah, saving your asses from dementors will do that,” he replied, his tone cold. He regretted it immediately. None of it was Ingrid’s fault. If there was one person to blame, it was Dimitri, but that was far fetched for Sylvain. The situation was a harsh reality of an impending war, nothing more.  His younger friend's bizarre obsession and instance that his step-sister was involved was a result of trauma, nothing more.</p><p>“Don’t be a dick,” Ingrid said as she handed him a bar of chocolate, still not looking up from her book. “None of us knew what we were walking into, though I think Dimitri had an inkling. Nobody was expecting the dementors.” She looked up from the book, dog-eared a page, and put it on the bedside table. </p><p>The question was on the tip of her tongue. Sylvain knew what she was going to ask.<em> I thought you could produce a Patronus, what happened? You keep bragging about how you’re more advanced than most kids in your class.</em> The redhead felt nauseous. How was he supposed to admit to Ingrid that, during a time of need, he could not produce a Patronus to save their life?</p><p>He groaned in pain as he readjusted his position on the bed and leaned back, never breaking her glance. Her eyes were red, puffy and glassy and she was sniffling. Sylvain’s eye’s narrowed. Why was Ingrid crying? He wasn’t dead (although he was ready to be as dramatic about being in the hospital ring at the hospital). The realization hit him like a jinx curse. </p><p>“What happened, Ingrid? Who’s dead?”</p><p>Ingrid broke their gaze and stared at the floor, twiddling her thumbs in her hands. It was a loaded question and they both knew. Sylvain nibbled on the chocolate and warmth flooded his body.</p><p>A loud groan from the other side of the hospital wing startled both of them. Sylvain reached for her hand and took it into his. She was trembling and trying not to cry. He wanted to pull her into his arms and have her rest her head against his chest in an effort to calm down. If Sylvain never saw Ingrid cry again he would be a happy man.</p><p>“Are you sure you want to know now?”</p><p>Sylvain scoffed and winced from the pain. The bitter aftertaste in his mouth indicated skelegrow and he could feel his limbs starting to feel like they were on fire. It was working. He bit into the chocolate again. If someone died, he needed to know. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until he got his questions answered.</p><p>“It can’t hurt worse than it already does, Ing.”</p><p>Sylvain had no idea how wrong he was.</p><p>Ingrid sighed. “Well, it’s not like you’re going anywhere. You're here for another two days, at least.” She took the chocolate from Sylvain, broke off a piece for herself, sniffled and placed it on the bedside table.</p><p>“Mercedes and Felix are okay. Felix is bruised and pissed about being caught in Devi’s snare, ut okay. Annette and Ashe have some sprains and stitches, but okay. Byleth got attacked by these tentacle-like things? I’m not sure what they are. Yuri explained it to me but it was confusing. She’s got a bad concussion and it takes her a few minutes to remember things, but Professor Manuela thinks she’ll be okay.”</p><p>Ingrid paused. Sylvain recognized the look; she was unsure of how to proceed. “Cornelia was there. She managed to get her hands on Dimitri.”</p><p>Sylvain sucked in a breath. “Is Dimitri dead?”</p><p>“No.” Her face paled. “She’s a werewolf, Sylvain. Did you know that? I didn’t.” Werewolves weren’t rare but they weren’t common. It made sense that someone in the Death Eaters was a werewolf, despite the tainted bloodline. Arundel must have needed the manpower to allow a non-pureblood, non-human in his ranks. “Dimitri’s not a werewolf. Not fully, at least. Rodgriue says he’s going to have wolfish characteristics and he’s missing an eye. Half werewolf? I don’t fully understand, either.”</p><p>The colour drained from Sylvain’s face. That explained the copious amount of blood on Dimitri. At least his friend wasn’t dead. His head was starting to hurt as he processed the information. Maybe Ingrid had been correct in her assessment; did he really need to know this information now?</p><p>“Dedue’s got some nasty scars from her claws but he’s fine. Physically, at least. I should add that overall, everyone is fine physically.” </p><p>“What about you?” </p><p>Sylvain had been so engrossed in the recounting that he forgot he was holding her hand. She was sweaty and warmer than normal. He traced small circles in between her index finger and thumb in an effort to calm her down. </p><p>“Physically fine.” </p><p>Yet she was emotionally broken. Sylvain didn't need her to express that to know. He knew his friend better than he knew himself. </p><p>“Okay. So right after the dementors came, I heard someone yell. What was that all about?”</p><p>The tears spilled over and Ingrid sniffled. She was trying to stay strong for Sylvain but her resolve was breaking. Sylvain hated the sight. Once she was done updating him, he would pull her into his arms and hold her for the rest of the night. He didn’t care if the bed was designed for one. He wasn’t letting Ingrid out of his sight for as long as he could control it.</p><p>“The Order came in. Glenn was the one who found us first.” </p><p>All self-control Ingrid had broke. She wasn’t crying; she was sobbing. Ingrid didn’t have to explain what happened next. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Ingrid’s violent reaction and that could only mean one thing. </p><p>Glenn was dead.</p><p>Ignoring the pain, he pulled Ingrid into his lap and pressed her head against his chest. Her body was shaking as she sobbed. Sylvain didn’t know what to say. Offering condolences wasn’t going to work in this. Glenn was Ingrid’s first everything: her first kiss, her first boyfriend, her first love. The jealous burned within Sylvain as he thought about the fact that Glenn had confided in him months back about how he thought Ingrid was going to be the one he wanted to marry. He knew Ingrid was convinced she was going to marry Glenn. He had caught her writing “Mrs. Fraldarius” in her journal more than one.</p><p>Now was not the time to be jealous. Ingrid was crying into his chest and he was jealous over a dead man. He ran his fingers through her hair and held her tight. It was the only thing he could offer at this point. </p><p>Sylvain didn’t speak as Ingrid cried. Eventually, her breathing evened and the tears stopped. He readjusted his position on the bed. Ingrid didn’t flinch. That was a good sign; it meant she was truly asleep. The redhead let her sleep; she would need it. He knew it would be elusive in the coming months. </p><p>He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and lingered there as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Sylvain’s eyes felt heavy as he squeezed Ingrid tighter. This position, with her in his arms, felt right, felt natural. He didn’t want the moment to end. He closed his eyes, his body and mind numb, and started to drift off.</p><p>Tomorrow would be another day. Tomorrow they would tackle the grim reality of an upcoming war. But as long as Ingrid, his light, comfort, and source of his happy memories, was by his side, he knew he could handle whatever the war threw at them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>idk they're ike 15/16 it's harry potter they're teens w/e</p></blockquote></div></div>
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